


Frost

by TheQueerestWriter



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kidnapping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueerestWriter/pseuds/TheQueerestWriter
Summary: A large black dog roams the streets of New York till he finds a friend.Jason ran away from Gotham and found himself in New York, trying to have a life away from the bats, till he found a large black dog.This is not a normal dog.Jason's brother's need his help, Tim has gone missing.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87





	Frost

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a prologue. If you love it and want more, let me know.

The huge black dog was wandering through the dark streets of the never quiet city when he smelled blood. At first, the dog thought that it was the butcher shop, but then he remembered that he wasn’t near the butcher shop. He was on the street where all the buildings smelled of alcohol, smoke, and things that burned his nose and made humans both docile and more likely to give him snacks, and angry and violent. 

The dog followed his nose to the source of the smell down an alley that had a back door to one of the alcohol places. Peering into the darkness, he saw the shape of a man sitting against the wall, curled in on himself. The dog crept closer, slowly, and carefully. The blood smell was coming from this human, and if the man was injured, then the dog was going to do whatever he could to help him. But if he was bloody because he had been fighting, then he could be dangerous and the dog needed to be ready to run away. He’d encountered humans before who weren’t against hurting dogs. 

The man looked up, and the dog saw the fear in those blue green eyes, and the glint of a knife in the man’s hand. The dog froze, waiting to see what the man would do with that knife. 

“What do you want pup?” the man asked, his voice low and gentle, but rough, like he’d had a bad night. The dog could smell the alcohol on his breath from the opening of the ally. The dog took the invitation to creep closer, and he could see now where the blood smell was coming from. There was a fresh wound on the man’s arm, a straight cut made by the knife in his hand. There were older wounds on his arm, copies of the fresh one, some scabbed, and some healed and scared. The man had been hurting himself. 

The dog looked into the man's eyes, he was now only a foot from him. He gave the man the saddest look he could muster, trying to tell him he was sorry that he felt he had to hurt himself. He didn’t understand why humans hurt so much on the inside, but he knew some did. This man was hurting so much on the inside, that he had to make himself hurt on the outside too. 

“You worried about me huh?” the man asked, gently reaching a hand out to the dog. The dog took that final step forward, and let the man place his hand on his head. The man grinned, but the smile didn’t reach those strange blue green eyes. The man scratched behind the dog’s ear, and the dog leaned into the touch, savoring the gentle warmth. He could see the tension leak out of the man’s broad shoulders. Dogs were made for people, the dog knew that. They could help people, and this person clearly needed it. The dog decided right there that this was going to be his person, his purpose. He scooted closer and licked the blood from the man’s arm. 

“It’s okay bud,” the man said softly. “I’ll be okay.” The dog didn’t believe him. He wouldn’t be okay, not on his own. The dog licked his face. The man laughed, brushing away his dark locks from his face, a white patch catching the light from the city. 

“Okay, okay, stop,” the man said, a hint of joy in his voice, as he playfully batted the dog away. “Are you hungry, dog? I’m hungry.” The man stood, and swayed, leaning on the wall for support. The dog was big, and his shoulder nearly came to the man’s hip. He pressed against the man, trying to offer support. The man didn’t seem to understand this, and petted the dog’s head reassuringly. 

“It’s okay, pup. You’re okay,” he slurred. He must be very drunk. The dog hoped he didn’t have a car, as he had heard many people warn those who were drunk not to drive. But the man didn’t go for a car. Instead, he started off down the street, and the dog kept as close to him as he could, not daring to let the man out of his sight. 

...

They found themselves a short time later outside a fast food joint. The dog couldn’t read, but he recognized the logo and knew this place was called a McDonalds. The few times he’d managed to get some of the food that came out of this place had been good, so the dog was glad when the man made to go inside. The dog tried to follow him, but the woman behind the counter said the dreaded words, “Dog’s aren’t allowed in here.” 

The man looked down at the dog, an expression on his face like he’d almost forgotten the dog was there. The dog would have taken offence at this, if the man wasn’t very drunk, and because his forgetfulness might make it easier to follow him home. 

The man led the dog back outside and told him to sit, which the dog did. Then he told him to stay, and that he’d be right back. The dog knew there wasn't any other way out of the building, so he’d have no way of losing the man, he’d have to come back out this way. So the dog sat, and waited. 

A few drunk people passed on the street, staggering home, but no one paid him much mind. He was a big dog, fur black and shaggy. He’d heard people call him a wolf before, but that wasn’t really true. The people had the lab had called him a perfect mix, but he didn’t know exactly what he was a mix of. They’d been trying to make, bigger, faster, stronger dogs, and the dog was all of those things. They hadn’t been trying to make them smarter though. Easier to train, sure; more likely to protect their human companions no matter what, yes, but not smarter. But they  _ had  _ made the dog smarter. He knew he was smarter than the other dogs on the street. He found ways to open gates and bins, or learn which kinds of people were more likely to give you food, and which ones would kick at you. And he understood what people said. Sometimes what they said didn’t make a lot of sense, but he still understood the words. Most of the street dogs knew a few words, but not all words, not like the dog did. 

The dog knew humans had names for each other, but he had never been given one. He was always The Dog, or Specimen 15638, but the dog knew those weren’t real names. He wondered what the man’s name was, the man that had just wandered out of the restaurant, with two bulging bags and two cups. 

He smiled at the dog, and the dog opened his mouth in a doggy grin. 

“Come here, I got food,” the man said, as he turned toward the outdoor seating area. The dog followed. The man sat down at a table, and pulled several things out of one bag. He flattened out the bag and set it on the ground in front of the dog. The dog sat down, and waited as the man set two burgers on the bag, then dumped out a pile of fries next to it. Then he took the lid off a very big cup, and set that down too. The dog sniffed the cup and found it was full of clean water. The dog couldn’t remember the last time he had had clean water. 

“Go on,” the man encouraged, and the dog dug in, wolfing down the food, and splashing water everywhere in his eagerness. He glanced up at one point to see the man smiling at him, his burger half eaten in his hand. 

Once they had finished their food, and the man threw their trash away, they started walking again. The dog kept close, sure now that the man wasn’t going to send him away, he hadn’t yet, and most people would have. The man didn’t send him away, but instead let the dog follow him up several flights of stairs, and into a tiny apartment. A small, cluttered kitchen sat opposite an equally small living room where a battered couch sat on one wall, with a tv opposite it. A plastic bin sat between them being used as a table; it’s contents burned the dog’s nose. 

The man knelt next to the dog and pet his fur, before pulling his face away. “Damn, you stink!” he exclaimed. He led the dog deeper into the apartment and the dog saw a tinny hall with three doors. The one on his left led to a bathroom, where the man went to fill the tub. The one on his right led to a tiny room with a washer and dryer stacked on top of each other. The door directly in front of him led to a small bedroom, where the dog could just make out a large bed in the gloom. 

“Doggy! Come here,” the man called, so the dog went into the bathroom. He found the man knelt next to the tub that was still filling with water. The dog sniffed it and found it smelled clean. He tasted it and found that it was warm, but not hot. 

“Come on. Get in,” the man urged. The dog looked between the man and the water for a minute, before slowly getting in. The bottom of the tub was slippery, so the dog sat down, but his front paws kept sliding, so he lay down, the water coming up to his chest. 

“Good boy,” the man crooned, and the dog opened his mouth in a grin. He was happy the man was happy. The man turned off the water, and then pulled out a cup. He filled it with the bath water, and gently poured it over the dog, soaking his back. 

“Hold still now,” the man said, as he gently poured water on the dog’s head, careful of his ears and eyes. “You have some seriously blue eyes,” the man commented. The dog knew this. Dogs can see blue and yellow colors, and the dog had seen his reflection in the glass of stores before, so he knew his eyes were blue, but he didn’t see the importance. 

“I think I’m going to call you Frost,” the man decided, and the dog’s heart swelled. He had a name now, he was Frost. 

“Stand up for me, Frost,” the man said, and Frost did. The man did something, and the water started to drain from the tub, it was brown and full of dirt now. The man started to fill the tub back up, and as he did, he pulled out a bottle that smelled very sweet and poured some of the thick liquid in his hand. He scrubbed this into every part of Frost, cleaning a year of city grim from his fur. Frost leaned into the scrubbing, reveling in the gentle contact, he didn’t realize how much me missed it. Once the man had deemed him clean, he had Frost lay back down, as he worked the soap out. He drained the tub and filled it one final time to really rinse Frost off, before he declared him done. 

“Okay, let’s dry you off,” the man said, and Frost took the opportunity to shake himself vigorously, throwing water everywhere. 

“Frost!” the man exclaimed, holding up a towel to block the onslaught, but there was laughter in his voice. Several towels later, and a strange device that blew hot air, and Frost was finally dry.

“Let’s get some sleep,” the man suggested, and made his way out of the bathroom and to bed. Frost followed him as he stripped, and buried himself under the covers, his back pressed against the wall. Frost leapt up and curled up against his chest. The man wrapped one arm around him, and together, they fell asleep. 


End file.
